


Taking the Hit

by AZGirl



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, Family, Friendship, Gen, Post-Episode: s04e02 Forever War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28465659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AZGirl/pseuds/AZGirl
Summary: Confessing to something he didn’t do was one of both the easiest and hardest things he’s ever done. A post-4.02 Forever War tag.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	Taking the Hit

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning** Brief mentions about the suicide of a minor character. 
> 
> I’ve had this fic done for a couple weeks, but decided to wait and post it after Christmas.

**ooooooo**

"[T]he world now knows who Marsden was, and that's what matters." 

~~~~~ Clay Spenser to Ray Perry, 4.02 Forever War.

"[S]omeone was going to have to take the hit, and it didn't need to be you." 

~~~~~ Clay Spenser to Ray Perry, 4.02 Forever War.

ooooooo

When he started at his new duty station, Clay was bored out of his mind before the first hour was over. Endless documents about the Tier One teams and what they needed or used to complete their missions, deployments, etc. that he needed to proofread kept coming. Mind-numbing was a vast understatement for his job. 

And then two things started to happen. 

He’d always been good at languages, but having to proof and correct a ton of documents with so many lazy mistakes, Clay noticed he’d become a real stickler for all things grammar. He even bought and read a book about the current rules for grammar and citation just to make sure every error was found and properly corrected. The only upside was that he was convinced the boring job was helping to improve his typing skills. 

The other thing that happened was that, over time, he grew more and more interested in what the reports were saying, or not saying. Though he didn’t have the AAR reports to fill in details, Clay was able, through the logistics end of things, to determine what was going on with the various teams - who was training, which teams were out on a mission, how a mission went, etc. 

Most of the time, the reports for each of the teams showed up in his inbox on the same day, and then he wouldn't get anything more from them for at least a few days, but that wasn’t the case with Bravo team. Clay didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but for Bravo, a bit of paperwork regarding them seemed to trickle in nearly every day. It was as if someone was making sure he was reminded daily that he wasn’t allowed to roll with Bravo any longer. 

That day’s Bravo-related report came in towards the end of his shift after he’d wrestled with reports written by the worst grammar offender in logistics. Based on what it said, he could tell it was talking about his last mission with Bravo before he’d confessed to writing the letter Ray had actually written. 

Seeing that report made his mind wander back to when he first realized the author of the letter had been Ray.

ooooooo

**_More than a month ago..._ **

The day Mandy informed him and Jason about the article that had been published in the _Washington Post_ , Clay was happy that Ambassador Marsden's name had been cleared of any wrongdoing. When he'd seen that news story about her being investigated, he'd realized just how dirty politics could be. He'd been so naive to think the death of someone like that, someone who couldn't defend herself, wouldn’t be used to further some political agenda at some point. 

Eventually, when he gets some time to himself, Clay seeks out the article and reads it, focusing his attention on the letter that had been printed in full. Put plainly, it's a time bomb, and it's only a matter of time before it would detonate. He's thankful someone had been selfless enough to contact Marsden's husband and let him and his children know how brave and determined the ambassador had been in such a chaotic and desperate situation. That she had died in pursuit of peace not war.

He fully agreed with Mandy; the upper brass were going to want someone's hide for what otherwise would be considered an act of kindness. Government types really don't like it when their dirty dealings and laundry are exposed for all to see. 

Whoever wrote the letter to the family, Clay hoped he would get to thank them some time. He had been getting tired of hearing Marsden and her career being disparaged, having her legacy of service tarnished, but now the truth was out about her. 

The more he thought about it, the more something about the article teased at his brain, but he wasn't sure what. He hoped reading it again would help him figure whatever it was out. 

When he'd first gone through the letter printed in the article, he'd immediately recognized the fact that it had to be from someone who had been there during that fubar mission. This time, as he read, he paid closer attention to what it said and how it was said, the details given, or the lack thereof as the case may be. 

There were really only three possible groups who could've written that letter: a member of Marsden's staff, someone from Bravo, or someone from HAVOC. Clay immediately discounted anyone from HAVOC or anyone not on site during the mission. There was no intel or tactics mentioned, but the word choices suggested it wasn't a member of Marsden's staff either. 

He briefly considered Marsden's number two, Daniel, but the guy had demonstrated more than once that he was looking out for himself and his job more than he cared about others. Such a man wouldn't risk his career or future advancement on that kind of letter to the ambassador's family. 

Obviously, that meant someone from Bravo had written the letter. But who? 

He skimmed the letter again.

And that's when he spotted it. 

The author of the letter did a great job covering up their identity – except for one time. One short sentence that betrayed the identity of the author of the letter.

It spoke directly to the ambassador's children, and not the husband, revealing the author to be a father himself. There were only so many fathers on the team, but knowing his brothers like he does, Clay is certain he knows the writer's identity.

Ray.

Only Ray has that kind of selfless compassion for others. Only Ray has such a desire for fair play and respect. Only Ray would or could write such a letter.

A flood of gratitude for Ray suddenly washed over him. He had really liked the ambassador, and felt as if he'd bonded with her in the short time he'd known her. Clay truly believed they would have kept in touch and perhaps even become friends if she had not died in the course of her mission to secure peace between those two warring tribes. It's one of the reasons he'd gone to her funeral. He had been paying his respects to a brave, heroic woman, but also to what could have been – a friendship or mentorship that he would have cherished. 

For Ray's sake he's going to keep his deduction that Bravo 2 was the letter's author to himself. He wouldn't be surprised if an investigation hadn't already been launched, and it would do no good to voice his thoughts on the matter, especially where Ray was concerned. He'd treat the situation as need to know, and for now, absolutely no one needed to know, including Rebecca. 

ooooooo

**_Present day..._ **

He completed his task as best he could on the Bravo-related document, proofreading and correcting mistakes as if every sentence wasn’t a stab to his heart. 

Clay headed to the shooting range for the official reason of wanting to keep up his marksmanship skills, but what he really wanted to do was clear his head. He tended to go there at least a couple of times a week, sometimes every day if the memories and loneliness got to be too much to deal with. 

He was there often enough that he started to form a friendship with Range Chief Hauser. The older man could tell by his shooting when his mind wasn’t completely on task. Some days, Chief would give him pointers, and others, he would leave Clay alone. It was as if the man knew when his punishment was really getting to him. 

Getting into a comfortable position, he lined up a mid-range shot and after a few calming breaths, exhaled once more before taking the shot. He missed his target by more than he should have even with his mind still occupied by the usual thoughts centering on his downfall.

ooooooo

**_Just over a month ago..._ **

When Jason had dropped the news about NCIS's witch hunt to find the author of the letter on the plane, that the scalp the Department of Defense was hunting was an insider on Bravo, Clay had his suspicion about Ray confirmed. The amount of disbelief in Ray's voice said it all as far as he was concerned. 

It was only a matter of time before the NCIS agents figured it out, and Clay wondered what that would mean to not only Ray, but to Bravo team as well. With a couple of worst-case scenarios running through his head, a sudden thought came to mind, one which could solve a few problems all in one go. He’d been having doubts about his path for a while now, but this time he thinks he knows which one is the best choice for him. 

When he’d attended the ambassador’s funeral, his mindset at the time was of wondering how he could make a difference in the world just like Marsden had. He’d always had aspirations of someday being something more, perhaps running for office, but the exact trajectory had always been rather vague.

Meeting Rebecca that day… Somehow his attitude of service had slowly warped into wondering what more could he achieve. Making a difference had begun taking a backseat, had become a side effect of the getting-ahead, power-grab train of thought. 

As he considered the pros and cons of his crazy, self-destructive idea, his relationship with Rebecca kept coming to mind. He realized that his getting-ahead attitude was something he’d adopted from Rebecca’s rationale of the world. She saw it as a place where achievement, getting ahead, and acquiring more power and influence was the best path in life. Being with her had changed him into something he didn't like very much, and he was now reconsidering whether or not that had been a good thing, if it was something he really wanted. 

Captain Lindell offering him the STA-21 route had been the real catalyst for Rebecca to begin planning their future lives together in Washington D.C. as some kind of power couple. He’d had some doubts about advancing like that, knowing it would mean leaving Bravo team behind, the first team he’d truly felt at home as a member. 

Yet, he was still committed to helping bring about changes in regards to how veterans like Swanny were cared for once they left the armed forces. Clay thought going the STA-21 route might somehow give him a louder voice in terms of getting TBIs recognized as a valid diagnosis regardless of whether or not it was discovered while the soldier or sailor had been serving. He didn’t want any more veterans to feel like their only way forward when they couldn’t get proper treatment was with a gun, alone in a mostly-deserted parking lot. 

Clay closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to dispel the sudden memory of how he’d found Swanny that night. He’d seen a lot of death in his life, but Swanny’s was one of a few that regularly haunted his dreams. 

Shaking his head to dispel the unwanted visuals, Clay forced his mind to refocus on whether or not he should follow through on his insane idea. He actually thought it was telling that he hadn’t even considered asking Rebecca for her input. He already knew what she’d say, knew it didn’t fit into her vision of the world or of their future together. 

When the article came out in the newspaper, they'd talked about it, but Rebecca hadn't even asked if he'd written it. Given his involvement in the ambassador's last days, and how he’d admired her, Clay was an obvious candidate to have been the one who had written to the husband. At the time, he thought she was being cautious, wanting plausible deniability in the event there was an investigation. 

Now, he was beginning to believe that Rebecca’s mindset of 'how to get ahead' had prevented her from even considering him taking such a course of action in the first place. Writing a letter like that would not help advance a career, something that was very important to her. He honestly couldn’t say if his girlfriend would understand let alone stand by him if he went ahead with his plan. 

ooooooo

**_Present day…_ **

Thinking about Rebecca only managed to make his mood worse, but he tried to fight past it, taking another shot. Again he missed center, though it was in perfect opposition to his other missed shot. 

He smiled slightly. If he couldn’t manage to hit the center of a mid-range target, then he wouldn’t bother with the long range ones. Instead, he would have a little fun with the target he’d been shooting at. 

Assuming he could keep enough focus, Chief would either laugh at his antics or yell at him for wasting ammunition. 

ooooooo

**_Just over a month ago..._ **

Deciding to sleep on whether or not to pull the trigger on his idea, he went to bed, but he didn't get much, if any, sleep as his mind worked through the possible consequences as if he'd already decided to confess. If he was honest with himself, he'd made the decision to confess that he’d written the letter in almost the same moment he'd had the idea. 

Once that thought drifted through his mind, Clay spent the rest of the night contemplating what he’d say to Lindell. Thoughts of how the rest of his team would react also occupied his mind. One thing that he decided early on was that he wasn’t going to tell any of the guys what he was planning ahead of time, informing them once it was a done deal. 

He could imagine the various reactions of his teammates, knowing they would range from anger to bafflement with a generous side of sarcastic comments. They’d wonder why he would choose to confess instead of laying low and hoping the NCIS investigation would fail to determine the culprit. Regardless of their reactions, Clay was certain they would stand by him, remaining his brothers, his family. 

Ray’s reaction would be a whole other matter, which was the main reason why he would have to present the whole thing as a fait accompli. He knew there would be a confrontation, that the older man would feel guilty and want to set things right, but Clay would remind his brother that there would be worse consequences for having told a lie to a superior officer.

With Bravo having just returned from deployment, they were supposed to have a bit of time off, so he had to call the base and ask to see Captain Lindell. His appointment was set for 9 AM the next morning. Just making the call had made his gut churn unpleasantly, but he knew his decision to confess was the right one for him and for the team. 

He knew who he was now, and he knew he could make a difference in the world just by being a team guy.

The next morning, Clay tried to eat something and barely managed to choke down a piece of barely-buttered toast with some coffee. He knew right away that the coffee had been a bad choice for his stomach; he could practically feel the acid sloshing around eating a hole in his stomach lining. The only upside was that it helped to wake him more, not that he really needed that much help given how nervous he was. 

Confessing to something he didn’t do was one of both the easiest and hardest things he’s ever done. It was difficult to lie to a commanding officer like Captain Lindell, the older man who had seen what he could be, and who had encouraged him to go another route where he could make a difference. 

But any doubts about his current course of action evaporated when he thought of Ray. Clay couldn’t let the man who had championed him to be a member of Bravo be punished for something done out of compassion.

Despite knowing it was the right thing to do for him and for Bravo, his stomach still dropped into his feet at Lindell's declaration that STA-21 was gone. He'd already guessed and accepted that his punishment wouldn't be a slap on the wrist, but he still hoped Lindell would want to mitigate some of the consequences after pushing him as the future of the Navy to the higher ups. Time would tell on that score.

The higher ups tended to punish offenders by giving them a duty station that was so boring, so soul-crushing, that the sailor in trouble would never want to rock the boat again. For him, that likely meant he would be assigned some sort of paper-pushing duty, because they would think not being able to operate for a few months would be the worst punishment. 

In actuality, for him, soul-crushing, not to mention humiliating, would be to send him back down to Green Team with the implicit understanding he could never be a Tier One operator again. Just about as soul-crushing would be to permanently remove him from Bravo team, somewhere he really felt he belonged. He was reasonably certain that he would operate again, but he was much less certain how that would look once his punishment was over. 

As that thought, as well as what he’d just done, finally sank in, Clay started feeling as if his insides were simultaneously rushing towards his feet while also wanting to be on the outside of his body. Continuing down the hall away from Lindell’s office as if nothing was wrong, the feeling of insides wanting to be on the outside only increased, and he had to focus his breathing so that it wouldn't happen before he could get to a restroom. 

He just barely made it into a stall before what little he had in his stomach burst out of his mouth and into the toilet. It was mostly bile, the acid irritating his esophagus and throat. From outside the stall, someone asked if he was alright, and he simply said it was something he ate, which was true in a way, though not the actual cause of his stomach rebelling against him. 

Clay was well aware that extreme emotion or adrenaline could cause this type of reaction, and had experienced it before, but he still hated throwing up regardless of the reason. Once he was sure he was done painting the inside of the toilet bowl, and that he was alone in the restroom, Clay flushed the toilet and exited the stall. 

He turned on the cold water, cupping his hand underneath the water to bring some to his mouth to wash out the taste of his vomit. After a couple of tentative sips, his throat felt a little better. He then quickly washed his face, which helped even more. As he dried off, he forced himself to refocus, to calm himself with various breathing techniques until someone else suddenly entered. He nodded towards the guy he thankfully didn’t know as he left the restroom. 

As he left the base, he focused on the reunion he was going to have with Rebecca later that day, choosing to focus on the future physical aspects rather than the thought of having to make another confession. He hoped his girlfriend would support him, but he couldn't help starting to prepare for this to be the end of their relationship. Oddly, he felt much calmer about that than he had about admitting he'd been the one to write the letter. 

ooooooo

**_Present day..._ **

Chief Hauser must have been in a good mood because he did laugh when he finally got around to observing Clay’s shooting, the end result being a happy face pattern on the target. 

The good mood didn’t last long though, and soon after the older man was getting him to focus on his shooting. Somehow, he managed to put the memories on hold for a while and was able to make his targets with far more accuracy from then on. 

By the time he’d left, Clay felt better than he had upon arrival at the shooting range, but he could still feel the memories lurking at the forefront of his mind, waiting to come out again. 

Clay picked up some Chinese food on his way home and ate it while sitting in front of his laptop checking his various email accounts. 

When he saw a message from Ray, those lurking memories escaped and came to the fore once more.

ooooooo

**_Just over a month ago..._ **

Making his way through the busy hallways towards Captain Lindell’s office, Clay wondered how many more times he would have to confess to writing that letter. He managed to leave the team meeting before the guys could really react to the news of his downfall, but Ray easily caught up to him. 

The confrontation with Ray had gone about how he’d expected. 

“ _But the world now knows who Marsden was, and that’s what matters_.”

“ _I like where I am. You like where you’re going. It’s a win-win._ ”

“ _Because someone was gonna have to take the hit, and it didn’t need to be you. A-a guy who’s paid his dues to get where he is, a family to look out for, a new house._ ”

Presenting things as a fait accompli had worked, especially when he continued pointing out the reasons why the actual author’s identity couldn’t be revealed. Ray finally, and reluctantly, accepted the way things were and had to be. 

“ _I’m not sure I can ever repay you_ ,” Ray said. 

“ _You already have. Come on, you’re the reason I made Bravo_ ,” he replied before walking away. 

And he meant every word he’d said.

ooooooo

His meeting with Lindell went pretty much as he’d told his brothers. 

He was being reassigned for an indeterminate amount of time to the logistics department where he would be proofreading reports. 

The brass had definitely nailed it on the head in terms of boring and soul-crushing. 

The only bright spot of the meeting, which gave him any hope of returning to Bravo, had been that Lindell hadn’t ordered him to clear out his cage of his things. He would hold onto that hope for as long as possible, because for now, he was still with his brothers even if he couldn’t be out in the field with them.

ooooooo

**_Present day..._ **

Clay’s appetite started vanishing as he read the email from Ray, which was a semi-regular check-in to see how he was doing in general, and to check on how he was doing with his punishment. 

He appreciated the older man checking up on him, but he wished Ray would stop asking for details in a way that seemed as if he was trying to vicariously punish himself for writing that letter. 

Clay typed out a quick response, keeping things vague and as if he were pressed for time. 

By the time he hits ‘send,’ his appetite is completely gone, and he’s putting the remains of his meal away in the refrigerator. 

That night he can’t help but think about Ray and the aftermath of his confession.

ooooooo

**_Just over a month ago..._ **

As part of his punishment, Clay Spenser had been assigned desk duty in the logistics department on base. He thought he would be assigned to the communications department in order to take advantage of another of his skillset, but to show him just out of favor he was at the moment, Clay was assigned the task of proofreading reports, reports about reports, and one time, a report of a report talking about other reports. He'd had no idea just how many redundancies there were in documenting what went on in the Navy.

His new duty station didn't require or utilize any of the skills for which the Navy had trained him. All too often, it was essentially mind-numbing busy work for 10 hours a day. On the rare occasion, and just because he could, when there were transcriptions included in an initial report using one of the languages he knows, he proofread and corrected those documents too. Being bored out of his mind was no excuse for doing anything less than his best on each assignment that crossed his desk, and he was able to use his talent for languages, somewhat helping to keep his language skills up to date.

So far, the only time he felt as if he were truly being useful, and not just pushing paper, was when he was asked to translate and transcribe a part of a document that had been intercepted. It contained one of the tribal languages he'd learned growing up in Liberia. He was probably only one of a handful, if that, of sailors who knew those dialects, so he was allowed to complete the task. He knew the languages used in the rest of the document, but being under punishment meant he wasn't allowed to continue. He felt that it was a waste of time and resources, but he kept that thought to himself, not wanting to draw any more negative attention. It was only a few hours away from his regular duty station, but at least he'd actually felt like he'd contributed something and not just fixed careless mistakes.

When he'd been given this assignment as his punishment, Clay had been given no indication of how long he'd be chained to a desk, or if he'd ever be allowed back on Bravo. Logically, it made no sense to keep him on desk duty permanently. The Navy had spent far too much money on his training for him to never go out in the field again. 

If some of the higher ups had their way, he knew he would never be unchained from his desk. More than anything, he wished he could be back on Bravo, and at times it was really difficult to go into the cage room when he knew they were getting ready to run a training mission. He still couldn’t believe Thirty Mike had been made Bravo 1.

Clay agreed with Sonny when his friend had said their bond of brotherhood would endure beyond serving together on Bravo, but it would be difficult to keep in touch with his brothers if they were no longer in DEVGRU together, something he still feared might be taken away from him. As it was, he'd rarely seen or talked to Jason since the older man had left the team.

For now, all he could do was perform each task he was given, proofread each page, with the same level of dedication as when he was on a mission. He would give it his all, so the upper brass would not have any reason to extend his punishment – unless they did it for spite, which he wouldn't be surprised if that happened. He tried not to think about that scenario either.

He knows his career is stalled, perhaps for good. Any promotions, especially back to his former rank, will come much more slowly, if at all. He hopes it won't affect him becoming a team leader one day, but he has to wonder now if he'll ever make Senior Chief, let alone Master Chief.

Clay is well aware that he flew too high, that he wanted too much. Nearly losing the full function of his leg to that bomb in Manila, getting to know Swanny only to lose him to the man's suicide, and then what happened to Ambassador Marsden, meeting Rebecca… 

Those events had him changing what he wanted out of his career in the Navy. He'd begun to set his sights higher, dream bigger, have big dreams beyond the Navy. In the end, in part probably due to Rebecca’s influence, he'd wanted too much, wanted it too fast, and had forgotten who he really was. Like the "Blond Icarus" Sonny had called him, he'd crashed and burned.

And now it was all gone. 

Some days the only thing that kept him from regretting his decision was to remember why he'd done it in the first place. He'd wanted to protect his brothers from a witch hunt, one that would've inevitably led to Ray. The only advantage he'd had over the investigators was how well he knew Ray. He knew that eventually NCIS would've analyzed the stylometry* of the letter and noticed the same phrasing he had. From there, it wouldn't have been long before Ray had been caught, which would've been disastrous for his brother's career and family. 

Ray's family didn't deserve to be punished for a letter that had only spoken the truth, a letter that had been meant to give some measure of peace to the ambassador's family. Clay had needed a course correction, and taking the hit for Ray had done that, but more importantly he'd protected Naima and the kids. 

Still, there were days when the tediousness of his assignment drove him up the wall. There was only so much condescension and ill will he could take from his immediate superiors until he wanted to punch one of them out. 

To help keep from getting too frustrated, Clay went to the shooting range – a lot. Going there not only helped to keep up his shooting skills, it was part of the training regimen he'd devised to keep in shape for when he could finally return to the teams. And it was _when_ , not if, he would return. He had to believe that or he might just lose all hope of ever doing what he loved again.

Sonny, Brock, and Trent were very supportive of him continuing to train as if he were still a member of the teams, which helped his frame of mind a lot. And, after the first time he went to the shooting range once he'd received the final word on his punishment, Lisa helped him out by letting him know when the other teams' snipers were due at the range so he could mostly avoid them from then on.

Scuttlebutt had spread the story of his downfall far and wide. Some of the men, those who hated him and/or Ash, got a real kick out of him being punished. Others had privately commended him on doing the right thing, not just writing the letter, but confessing so that the rest of the team hadn't been dragged down with him. 

The first time at the range since he'd been assigned desk duty had been an exercise in self-control, because he'd had to ignore the reactions of everyone around him, especially the team guys. Clay knew he had to avoid going when the other DEVGRU snipers were there, or he'd never get any peace. Whether it was the ribbing or pit y – or both – he couldn't stand it. Avoidance became the name of the game. And, for the most part, he succeeded. 

Coming to the range so often, he came to be on good terms with the range chief, who helped him improve his technique which in turn improves his accuracy. It's not long before he beats his own long distance record.

The best part of being out at the range is its ability to instill a sense of calm within him and clear his mind. He can forget his troubles and just be Clay Spenser, expert marksman enjoying a little down time. 

Unfortunately, there are days where he can't push his troubles to the back of his mind and memories of what happened over the long months since Manila began creeping in, making his accuracy for the more distant shots severely decline. On those days, he sticks to the shorter distances, and the range chief tends to leave him to his thoughts, likely sensing his need to be alone. 

Some days the memories come as a flood, and other times his mind would replay certain moments as if he were actually reliving them, an observer to his own life. 

ooooooo

**_Present day…_ **

With the best of intentions, Clay had confessed to Ray’s “crime,” thinking it would be best for Bravo team, but he hadn’t counted on what had happened next. 

He had thought, with Ray gone and him suspended from operating, that Jason would be able to keep the team together, keep them operating at peak. But he had been wrong. Jason had suddenly decided to step back from the team and was assigned to a new role in Ops. 

In his place was Thirty Mike, and the rest of Bravo, especially Sonny, was having trouble adjusting to the new normal besides being down a man or two. They couldn’t seem to get their act together either no matter how many training missions they were assigned. 

Lindell could step in, but Clay was beginning to think the captain was allowing Bravo to fail on purpose. He’d always had a problem with how fast and loose the team was with how they completed their missions despite their record of successes. Clay wondered if this wasn’t Lindell’s way of breaking the team down so they would no longer act like cowboys and boat-rockers when operating. 

Clay hadn’t meant to bring the team down with him, but it had happened anyway. He could only hope Ray’s return in a few weeks would help to stabilize the team and get them back to being the best in DEVGRU. He hoped he hadn’t taken the hit just to cause Bravo’s downfall. 

He was barely half a page into the first report he was supposed to proofread that morning, and Clay already knew he would be visiting the shooting range again that day. Hopefully, this time, he would be able to do a better job of clearing his head by pushing the memories back into a corner of his mind where they belonged.

ooooooo

_The end_.

ooooooo 

Story Notes:

\- Story quotes and dialogue (in italics above) were taken directly from episode 4.02 written by Spencer Hudnut and Dana Greenblatt.

\- _Stylometry_ is the statistical analysis of variations in literary styles between one writer or genre and another.

**ooooooo**

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> Many thanks to Celticgal1041 for proofing. Any remaining mistakes are my fault. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> *Please do not repost or use this or any of my other works on another site or app without my knowledge or consent. FanFiction and Archive of Our Own are the only two sites (as AZGirl on both) where my fiction should be posted. Thank you!


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